


A Ghetto Christmas

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Milkoviches never celebrated Christmas, then Ian moved in and Christmas became sort of a big deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Ghetto Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays!! I was hoping to have this finished before Christmas ended, but it's over on my end of the planet. Oh well, better late than never.
> 
> So, I don't own 'em and thanks for reading.

Growing up, Mickey and his siblings didn't celebrate Christmas. They'd never had a tree, Terry would eat his own foot before spending any money on gifts for his kids, and generally Christmas dinner consisted of whatever Tommy and Tony managed to steal from the Kash n' Grab. In fact, after a while, December 25th just became another day. Then Ian moved in and Christmas became sort of a big deal.

* * *

**One**

It starts with the tree. Mickey comes home late from The Alibi, smelling like Corona and Coke (some plastered lightweight spilling some on him earlier that night), and he wants nothing more than to fall face first onto his bed and pass out, but those plans die when he finds Mandy, Ian, and Svetlana putting up a ratty looking tree. Most of the limbs are missing, the stand is wobbly, and it kind of smells like dog piss.

He rubs his tired eyes and asks, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What's it look like, asshole?" Mandy replies sifting through a box of old ornaments.

"You like? I find in back alley," Svetlana says gesturing to the tree. "My father taught me never to waste."

"The same father who sold you?"

Svetlana mumbles something in Russian, and Ian shakes his head before saying, "It's gonna look great, Mick. Trust me."

He's too tired to argue, so Mickey waves his hand and heads towards his room, muttering, "Whatever, knock yourselves out. I don't care."

He does have to admit, only to himself, that when he sees the tree in the morning it doesn't look half bad. It still smells like dog piss though.

* * *

**Two**

The ugly fucking sweaters come next. Mickey stumbles out of his room one morning, running a hand through his messy hair, needing a vat of coffee, only to freeze in the doorway. Svetlana is sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee sitting in front of her, feeding Yev applesauce from a green bowl. It's nothing new, she does it every morning, but the creepy ass Rudolph looking back at Mickey from her red sweater is.

"What is that thing?" he asks gesturing to the shirt.

"This?" Svetlana points at the abomination and Mickey nods. "It is gift from Carrot Boy. I like it."

"It needs to be burned," Mickey says crossing the room to the coffee pot; the very empty coffee pot. "And would it fucking kill you to make a fresh pot?"

She doesn't reply, but he knows she's smirking at him. He rolls his eyes, cleaning out the coffee machine, and soon a new pot is brewing. He falls into the seat next to Yev, noticing the tiny, blue, snowman sweater the kid's wearing. "Really?"

"He bought you one, too." Svetlana gives him an amused look, taking a loud sip of her coffee. "I think there is Santa on it."

"Well, I ain't wearing it." Mickey crosses his arms defiantly, glaring at the table.

Svetlana gets to her feet, picking Yev up, murmuring to him in Russian, and walks away. At the entryway she stops, turning back to Mickey, and says, "Orange Boy will be upset." She gives him a mocking smile before disappearing into the living room.

Mickey wears the damn sweater.

* * *

**Three**

Batches upon batches of Christmas themed sugar cookies, all of them decorated with frosting and sprinkles, start showing up the next day. There are yellow stars and green Christmas trees and blue angels; it's like the Pillsbury Doughboy exploded in their kitchen, and in the center of it all is Ian, Mandy, and Debbie. Mickey's sister sits on the counter, stirring ingredients together in a giant, metal mixing bowl, smiling at something Debbie is saying, while Ian puts another batch of cookies in the oven. Mickey hadn't even been aware their oven still worked, figuring one of his brothers would have found some way to blow it up or something by now.

He tries to steal a cookie from the plate near Mandy, but she swats his hand away, her attention still on Debbie. He yanks his hand back and mutters, "Bitch."

"You want a cookie," she starts finally looking at him, "you help make them."

"Whatever." He heads towards the door, stealing her cigarettes out of her jacket pocket. He steps outside and drops down onto the porch step, pulling a cigarette out of the half-empty pack. He lights it, turning his head when he hears the back door opens. Debbie walks towards him, sitting down next to him, offering him a small, plastic plate full of cookies.

"Don't tell Mandy," she whispers with a wink and stands, heading back inside, and Mickey snorts softly.

The cookies aren't half bad.

* * *

**Four**

When Mickey comes back from the Kash n' Grab later that day, he pauses briefly, watching as Lip holds a ladder while Ian strings up Christmas lights. He shakes his head, walking past the two, heading inside, snorting at the beer can wreath hanging on their door. He shuts the door, throwing a pack of cigarettes at Svetlana, and moves into the kitchen, slamming a Dr. Pepper down onto the table in front of Mandy.

"He gonna decorate the whole house?" he asks opening the fridge, pulling out a beer.

"What's the problem?" She grabs the bottle, twisting the cap off her soda. "So we're celebrating Christmas this year. Does it actually bother you that we're being normal for once?"

Mickey shrugs, leaning against the counter, taking a sip of his beer. He's not sure how he feels about Ian's sudden need to drag the Milkoviches into his Christmas traditions, but Mickey figures it could be worse.

At least this holiday comes with cookies.

* * *

**Five**

Gifts start appearing under the tree a week before Christmas. They're all wrapped in old newspaper, some with his and Mandy's names on them, others with Ian's, and even a few with Svetlana's. Yev has the most, but Mickey figures a lot of it is from Ian's sister. Since the Milkoviches and Gallaghers became intertwined, Fiona had been stopping by more and more with some of Liam's old stuff. Yevgeny isn't going to run out of stuff for a while; that's for sure.

Mickey figures he'd better get gifts for everyone, just because Ian's going to expect it, but he doesn't know what they want. Eventually, he ends up buying Svetlana a carton of Marlboros, Mandy a package of twelve lighters, and Yev one of those light up toys. He even gets the Gallaghers some candy, but he runs into a problem when it comes to getting Ian something. What exactly did the younger boy want?

The day before Christmas, Mickey still doesn't know what to get Ian, and it's stressing him out a little. He doesn't know why, it's not like Ian's gonna care what Mickey gets him, but it's sorta their first Christmas together. It can't be some convenience store novelty item, and then it comes to him.

Fiona picks up on the second ring, " _Hello?"_

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Mickey asks after a moment's hesitation, chewing on his bottom lip.

" _Why?"_ Even after all these months, Fiona is still cautious around Mickey, and while he doesn't like it, as an older sibling, he gets it.

"Kinda wanted to ask you something." He quickly tells her what he has in mind, peeking into the living room to make sure Ian is still distracted by helping Mandy hang tinsel all over the living room.

After Mickey finishes, Fiona's quiet for a long, long moment, but finally she says, " _Alright."_

* * *

 

**Six**

Mickey gets up around four, carefully extracting himself from Ian's octopus limbs, and quickly gets dressed. He creeps out of their room, closing the door gently, and heads into the kitchen. He snags the car keys off the counter, shoves his feet into his boots, and grabs his jacket, ducking outside. The air is chilly, a light snow fall dusting the ground with white, but he ignores this as he heads towards the beater Iggy and Joey spent an entire summer putting together.

He drives the two blocks to the Gallaghers' place, parking out front of their house. He heads up the walk, startling a stray dog that had been pissing on the fence post, and knocks softly on the door. Fiona opens the door after a minute, flour in her hair and gravy on her t-shirt, and steps to the side to let him inside. She closes the door and leads him into the kitchen, gesturing to the messy counter.

"I just wanna go on record and say that I'm not Martha Stewart," she jokes brushing a few strands of hair out of her face.

"I ain't exactly Gordon Ramsay," Mickey retorts shrugging his jacket off. He throws it onto the washing machine, pushing his sleeves past his elbows, and asks, "What do you need help with?"

She studies him for a long moment, a curious look on her face, but finally she turns back to her mess and says, "Everything."

Mickey shrugs, moving towards the counter. "Can't guarantee I won't burn nothing."

"Just don't set the house on fire."

"I make no promises."

It should be weird, helping Fiona prepare Christmas dinner, Mickey's sure it should be, but he learns pretty quickly that it's not. In fact, it's almost normal; almost like having Ian around, and that makes him pause for a few seconds.

Fucking Gallaghers, man.

* * *

**Seven**

Ian's surprised, to say the least, when his family shows up at the Milkovichs' place with Mickey in tow. He's even more surprised to see that they brought Christmas dinner; Fiona and Mickey seeming to be wearing some of it on their clothes. He gives his boyfriend a questioning look, and the older boy shrugs, a sheepish look on his face. Ian smiles, shaking his head, and goes outside to help Carl and Lip with the rest of the stuff.

The kitchen table doesn't fit everyone, so they end up eating in the living room. Debbie, Mandy, Liam, and Iggy sit on the floor facing the TV while Fiona and Joey sit between Lip and Carl on the couch. Svetlana has commandeered the recliner, feeding Yev bits of food from her plate, and Nika (who had shown up about thirty minutes before they ate) leans against her legs.

Ian stands in the entryway between the kitchen and living room, watching his family. A year ago, it'd be unheard of, to see the Gallaghers and the Milkoviches together, but now it seems natural. The only two people missing are Veronica and Kevin (and the twins of course), but they're having dinner with Mrs. Fisher. Ian makes a mental note to invite them next year (it's not the same without them).

He heads back into the kitchen, finding Mickey leaning against the counter. He's picking at the food on his plate, but he puts it down when he sees Ian enter the room. He raises his eyebrows, silently asking the redhead what's up, and the younger boy crosses the room, stopping a few inches from the brunette.

"You did this." It's not a question, and he knows Mickey knows, but it doesn't stop the older boy from shrugging anyway. "Thank you."

"Shut up." Mickey ducks his head, his face flushing red, and Ian grins. "I mean it." The older boy is fighting a smile, still refusing to look at the redhead, but Ian has all day. He can wait Mickey out no problem. Finally the brunette looks up, his blue eyes meeting Ian's, and he mutters, "'s nothing."

"You're such a sap," Ian teases his grin widening when Mickey scowls at him.

"Fuck you, Ian."

The red head leans in, giving the older boy a light peck on his cheek, and whispers, "Merry Christmas to you, too, Mick."


End file.
